This Time, Baylor Is on Right Side : He Missed World Series With Angels in ‘82; Now He’s Going

Don Baylor grasped the empty champagne bottle as if he feared it might sneak away, depriving him of another moment’s worth of memories. Bubbly dripped from his brow. His jersey was soaked with its sweet, sweet smell. But it was his eyes, red with emotion, that betrayed Baylor.

He had cried; he said so. When Angel pinch-hitter Jerry Narron struck out to climax the most implausible of comebacks and reward the Red Sox with a visit to the World Series, big, bad Don Baylor, captain of the famed kangaroo court, shed a tear. For himself. For the memory of 1982. For the insensitivity of George Steinbrenner, owner of the New York Yankees.

“It’s amazing,” he said. “It’s amazing. We pulled off the impossible. There’s no other way to say it.”

Baylor, a 15-year veteran, had been vindicated, all right. The World Series trip he said he felt cheated out of four years ago was now his. “I’ve waited a long time,” he said.

Now, Steinbrenner’s comments appear a bit premature.

“One thing,” Baylor said, “my bat is not dead in August.”

That was what Steinbrenner had said of Baylor, who had nine hits in 26 at-bats in the playoff series.

“Fifteen years worth of being a major league ballplayer and finally getting in the spotlight,” he said. “I was wondering why it hadn’t happened sooner.”

Baylor finished the season with 31 home runs, 26 of them off right-handers. But that couldn’t begin to erase the pain of 1982, when the Angels lost to the Milwaukee Brewers after leading the best-of-five series, 2-0.

As Baylor discussed the failings of 1982, Angel pitcher Don Sutton walked into the Red Sox clubhouse. His eyes, too, were red. He approached Baylor, stuck his hand between tape recorders and note pads, and offered his congratulations. Later, Ruppert Jones would make a similar gesture.

“I know what they’re feeling,” Baylor said. “I’ve been on the other side. We were up in 1982 and we just needed to win one more game. I think our ballclub deserved to go to that series.”

Does he have a special feeling for the Angels and Manager Gene Mauch?

“I sympathize with them, that’s about it,” he said. “Feelings are one thing, winning is another.”

Other Red Sox found comfort in their series win against the Angels. Across the clubhouse stood outfielder Jim Rice, who had entered the final game of this series against the Angels with four hits in 27 at-bats. Twenty-seven became 29 and still you could count his hits on one hand. And then . . . a towering three-run homer that clanged and rattled against a light tower transformer beyond the Green Monster, the same wall Rice has guarded for 12 seasons.

The Red Sox led, 7-0, after four innings en route to an 8-1 victory.

“There were no surprises,” Rice said, sternly. “We had to win and we won.”

Rice, noted for his gruff manner, paused and smiled. “The only surprise I received was I got a home run, a hit. That was the only surprise,” he said.

Rice had been part of the 1975 Red Sox World Series team. But he missed the games because of a broken hand. “This right here is more enjoyable,” he said.

With the victory also came justice for Roger Clemens, the Red Sox starter who had lost Game No. 1, walked away with no decision in Game No. 4 and returned for Game No. 7, with just three days’ rest.

“The first game that I pitched here, I pumped myself up trying to go out there and dazzle,” he said, “and I pumped myself up too much. I was really wild, which isn’t a characteristic of me.

“Out in California, I just stayed real laid back. Myself and (teammate) Al Nipper walked around the mall and took it real easy and stayed real calm. I know that in big games that the adrenaline is always going to be flowing and I don’t want to get too hyped up. I did the same thing (Wednesday night). I knew I had to get it going because of the way I was feeling, how weak I felt.”

In three games, Clemens threw 370 pitches. Red Sox second baseman Marty Barrett received the playoff series most valuable player award, but Clemens deserved honorable mention.

And wasn’t that Red Sox Manager John McNamara, a glazed look of sorts on his face, walking slowly from player to player? He shook hands with Baylor and gave him an awkward sort of hug. It was McNamara who left the Angels after the 1984 season, after the organization waited nearly two weeks to tender a contract offer. McNamara, tired of the wait, came to Boston. Now he, too, makes the trip he cherishes most.

From one strike away from elimination, his team had reached the World Series.

“Well, you know, what can you say?” McNamara said. “That’s baseball. Hope that springs eternal in the human breast . . . and one or two swings of the bat by Donnie Baylor and Dave Henderson got us off the hook. And coming back to Boston we felt we had a real chance.

“In this game, Yogi (Berra’s) quote gets better and better: ‘It’s not over until it’s over.’ It’s a great day for me. It’s a dream come true to go to the World Series.”